Check a Box
by The Pen Vs The Sword
Summary: With the Pines twins returning for the summer, Pacifica's daydreams start to get the better of her. And lead to embarrassment. One-shot. Dipper/Pacifica.


**A/N:** *writing quietly*

**Pen:** You're pathetic.

I can't help it. I must write more.

**Sword:** Brought more paper! Let's do this thing!

Thanks. And you're right, let's get on with it. Gravity Falls and all related material belong to Alex Hirsch and Disney. The song that inspired this, if anyone is curious, is "Check Yes or No" by George Straight. The story, Sword, and Pen belong to me. Please do not use without permission. Thank you and enjoy!

**Check a Box**

If Pacifica had to wipe down one more soup-stained table today, she was going to smash the jukebox blaring out country song after banjo-twanging country song and rip up every bar stool in Greasy's Diner. Why on earth Lazy Susan chose to serve soups of the day in bowls too small was beyond her, but it fell on Pacifica to bus each and every sticky table once the customers left.

Pacifica flipped her dirty towel back over her shoulder, picked up her tub of dirty bowls, and carried it into the kitchen, dumping the bowls, along with glasses and silverware, into the sink basin. As she turned on the faucet and rinsed out the food and drinks from them, her mind drifted, as it often did, to the Pines twins.

It had been a year since that fateful summer when Dipper and Mabel had first arrived in Gravity Falls, and nearly a year since their emotional departure. Since then, there had been scant visits here and there, for a holiday or family visit, and meetings in passing, but nothing like this summer now. Dipper and Mabel had returned to stay for the entire break from school.

Ever since hearing of their plan to return, Pacifica's nerves had been on edge, and now that the twins were here, those nerves were pushed straight off a cliff. She looked down at her pink dress and white apron, covered in food stains, water splotches, and grime from cleaning under tables and chairs. She couldn't stand seeing the twins, not in this outfit, not in this state.

After her family's fall from grace and elite status, her parents had to apply for jobs like the common people around here. Pacifica even deigned herself to work part-time at Greasy's Diner as a waitress and busser, earning some spare money to help out. It was hard, thankless, back-breaking work that left her exhausted and angry at the end of each day. She remembered somewhere that she had once heard "a hard day's work was its own reward". Personally, she thought whoever had said that was as full of it as Dipper was handsome.

She stopped herself, breaking out of her thoughts and realizing she had been washing the same spoon for five minutes now. She dropped it and gripped the edges of the basin tight, her knuckles whitening, as she focused her mind.

It was safe to say that, during their time away, the Pines twins had not only been on her mind, but that she thought of them every day. Especially Dipper. A dork in her eyes at first meeting, by the end of last summer, something had changed. He had started to appear in a new light to her. Friendly, kind, awkwardly charming, attractive in a nerdy manner. And during the infrequent visits over the year, she found herself trying to catch glimpses of Dipper more and more. She had even broken down and written him letters like Wendy, Stan, and others had. Although she kept them sparse and addressed both Dipper and Mabel so as not to arouse any suspicion.

But since seeing him yesterday when he and Mabel had arrived by bus, she didn't know if she could concentrate at work today. Certainly not with more soup orders calling out to be delivered.

"Coming," she said, picking up the tray of food from the chef's counter and delivering it to the waiting table. At that moment, the front door's bell jingled and she nearly fell over on her way back to the kitchen. Dipper stood in the doorway, flanked by Mabel and their two uncles. Pacifica watched as they took their seats at a booth, faintly aware of Lazy Susan yelling her name and the next in the long line-up of country songs on the jukebox beginning.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from him. It was obvious she was staring and she should busy herself with work, but she couldn't bring herself to. She was fixed on Dipper. His smile as he chatted with Stan and Ford, his always inquisitive, curious eyes, one normal, one lazy.

Pacifica blinked, and looked up, not into the face of Dipper, but of Lazy Susan. She yelped, falling down on her rear.

"You okay there?" Susan asked, bending down closer.

"Fine," she said, picking herself up.

Susan waved to Stan, greeting her "favorite customer" and turned back, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "Take care of them, will ya?"

She wanted to refuse, claim she needed to run home, that she was feeling ill. Not entirely untrue. But Lazy Susan had already entered the kitchen, leaving Pacifica alone for the job. "Sure," she mumbled, taking out a notepad and pen.

She approached the table with extreme trepidation, every footstep a slow shuffle. _Act like you would with any other customer. _She cleared her throat, breaking the Pines' conversation, and held the notepad close to her face, hiding her grinding jaw.

"What would you like to order?" she said.

Gasping, Mabel hopped up in her seat, slamming her hands on the table. "Hey, Pacifica!" she greeted loudly. Over the past year, her fashion intensity had not diminished in the slightest. If anything, the rainbow and unicorn sweater screamed in everyone's face in gaudy cheer.

"Oh, that's right," Dipper chimed in. "You told us you work here. How's it going?"

"Fine. Good," she said, trying not to bore a hole in Dipper when facing him. After all the time she had worked here, she still hadn't mastered small talk, but attempted it all the same. "How was the trip?"

"Too long!" Mabel said, drawing out the last word. "We should hang out sometime this summer. You, me, Grenda, and Candy."

Pacifica would rather replace that line-up with "Dipper, me, Dipper, and Dipper", but merely nodded at her. "Yeah, maybe." She looked down at her notepad, returning to the order before her palms became too sweaty to hold the pen. "Anything to start with? Our special is the creamy tomato soup."

"Sounds good to me," Ford said, adjusting his glasses and looking to Dipper and Mabel. The two kids each nodded.

"I'll take my usual," Stan said.

Pacifica jotted the orders down and rushed them to the cook, lest she embarrass herself in front of the table. She called out the orders, tearing them into their own slips of paper, and laying them on the counter for the cook to read and set the food down on when ready.

While waiting for the order, Pacifica traced little lines and circles on Dipper's order slip. In the background, she heard some song start on the jukebox, some upbeat tune about passing notes with questions of love and "Yes" or "No" checkboxes. As it played, her mind started to wander and she doodled little checkboxes of her own on Dipper's slip.

She almost followed the song and wrote above the checkboxes "Dipper, do you love me?", but had enough sense of mind to realize how strong that came off. She substituted the word with "like" instead, imagining Dipper marking the "Yes" checkbox. Her pen swooped to the side and started a stick figure of him, complete with hat, coat, and books under his arm.

Pacifica turned back to Dipper, peering at him through the window slit from the kitchen, wondering if perhaps she could find some excuse to hang out with only him this summer. At least once. Last time, it had taken a ghost to accomplish that. She idly thought of having Gideon summon some monster for Dipper to combat and laughed at the silly notion. _Then again, it would be a sure way._

"Order up!" the cook said all too quickly, interrupting her musings. The soups were already set up on a tray, sloshing over the bowls and threatening to drown the hamburger. Quickly, Pacifica delivered the Pines their meal and stepped away. "Enjoy your food."

She returned to the counter, content to worry about Dipper later, and focus on work for the next few hours. She searched the counter for the slip of paper she had been doodling on, intending to throw it away before anyone found it, but didn't see it anywhere. Pacifica dropped to her knees and checked the sticky wooden floor, the doorway, and even the bar and register for good measure. She located the paper with Stan's hamburger order, but no others.

Did Susan already throw it away? A flush and the restroom door opening told her otherwise as Susan exited and fanned the air behind herself. The cook? But she would have seen him. And why not throw away all of them? Then where-

A chilling notion raced down her spine, freezing her feet where she stood. The tray. The soup had been splashing around and when she peered closer at the counter where it had been set, she noted sticky, red stains. The tomato soup. Which meant the papers were covered in the soup and stuck to the bottom of the tray. _Which means_, her mind seemed unable to grasp on the conclusion fully, in a wild state of panic. _Which means..._

One look at Dipper revealed all. He had noticed a slip of paper stuck to the tray and was reading over it, his face a mixture of confusion and shock.

Immediately, Pacifica sprinted to the restroom, all but yelling at the top of her lungs on the way, and slammed the door shut behind her, locking it for good measure. Trapped along with the foul odor left by Susan, combined with her fear, she felt like retching. She stared into the mirror, her eyes bugged out, head leaning over the sink in case her stomach kicked up its contents, fingernails digging into the porcelain, her knees sinking into her legs like melted butter, her heart hammering against her ribcage. He had seen the note, seen her handwriting, her stupid doodles, the childish checkboxes, and everything else. All of it!

_Maybe the soup ruined the writing_, she thought. But with his reaction, that was impossible. The writing was clear as day. He saw what she wrote.

_Maybe he didn't recognize the handwriting._ She couldn't even entertain that possibility. After all, she wrote Dipper and Mabel letters during the year. Surely he would know her handwriting.

_Could say it was just a joke._ But what kind of joke would that be? And between what she wrote and her own antics, which he may have noticed, that wouldn't work either.

She turned away from the mirror, her back resting against the cold, wooden walls, and sank to the floor, burying her head in her knees. What a way to start out the summer. This entire year had been a wreck, starting with losing the mansion, then this job. And the one event she had been looking forward too, the Pines twins' return, had been tarnished with her embarrassing daydream.

Whenever she stepped out of the restroom, she dreaded what would happen. Everyone in Gravity Falls would be aware of the note, especially if Mabel saw it too. Anything in this town spread like wildfire through the residents and was public knowledge the day it came to light. _I can see it now._ All her peers taunting her, her parents ashamed, adults like Susan gossiping about the pair. And Dipper. Her heart hurt, imagining Dipper steering clear of her for the whole summer.

Pacifica wanted to stay in the restroom the rest of the day, curl up under the sink, and leave after closing when everyone else had returned home. But eventually, Lazy Susan would come looking for her and she still had a job to do. Running off or hiding would make things worse. A Northwest never backed down, after all.

Therefore, once she had taken a while to calm down and regain her composure, Pacifica squared her shoulders, wiped any worry and smudged makeup from her face, and marched out into the restaurant to face the consequences.

However, the table where Dipper and his family had eaten was empty, only dirty plates and bowls left in their place. Pacifica glanced around, but there was no sign of Dipper, Mabel, or their uncles. Did they finish eating or had the note made Dipper so uncomfortable that he convinced them to leave?

She grabbed a bus tub and headed to the table. Not a trace of food remained, and the drinks had been polished off. No sign of the note either. Maybe Dipper had tossed it? She grabbed handfuls of the silverware and dumped them in the tub, wondering what had happened.

_Forget it for now_, she reasoned. _Focus on work, worry later._ Sound advice. And one she would have followed had she not been startled when turning around with the dishes.

There stood Dipper, the lumberjack hat Wendy had given him shielding his eyes. "Hey," he said as Pacifica jumped and dropped the dishes.

She growled and picked up the tub, her hands sweaty and her legs trembling once more. "Don't sneak up on me like that," she snapped. "Did you forget something?"

"Sorry and no," he said, looking up and she almost forgot to blink, losing herself in his eyes. "I was, uh, wondering if you wanted to hang out some time this week?" He paused, digging his hands in his pockets, then unnecessarily clarified, "With me, I mean." Her breathing stopped and she nearly screamed "Yes" at the top of her lungs right then and there. The complete shock prevented her from doing so, keeping her rigid and inviting Dipper to elaborate more. "Mabel's going to be out with Grenda and Candy, so I thought we could catch up, go somewhere, or-"

"Sure," she said, stopping him before he continued rambling and her voice softened. "I wouldn't mind that. How's Friday?"

"Friday. Great," he said.

Mabel threw open the front door and called out, "Hey, bro-bro! You coming?"

"Be right there!" he said. Then turned to Pacifica, "So I'll see you Friday." She nodded and he stumbled off, waving at her as he left.

Pacifica could have sang, her heart felt so light. Of all the outcomes, she hadn't expected that. It was the best thing that could have happened. They were going to hang out together! Dipper and her. The two of them. Just her and Dipper. She had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Perhaps he hadn't been able to read the note after all.

Before she left the table, she spied a few dollar bills. _Not like Stan to leave a tip_, she thought and figured that the others had probably convinced him to. When she picked up the money to pocket it, a white slip of paper stuck out from underneath the bills. Her heart froze, scarcely daring to believe it, but certain it could be nothing else besides her doodling paper.

The soup had stained much of it, but the drawings and words were still very clear, dashing her earlier theory. Not only that, she noticed a new stick figure, one beside her crummy rendition of Dipper. A stick figure with long hair holding his hand.

Then her eyes dropped to the checkboxes below and a large beaming grin overshadowed her face. She had been wrong, as she blinked and read and re-read the marked "Yes" box over and over, committing it to memory. _This_ was the best thing that could have happened and rather than tarnishing the start of these months, this day seemed to be the brightest chapter on what she was sure would be the beginning of a most beautiful summer, the best she ever had.

**A/N:** There, that wasn't so bad, was it?

**Pen:** No, it was worse. I blame you for dragging me into this nonsense.

**Sword:** Can it. You should be used to it by now. Thank you, all you lovely peoples, for reading this! We very much appreciate it and love you all to bits! Please let us know what you think of it. Ta-ta and we'll see you later!


End file.
